


the words i cannot speak

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: If there’s one thing Kitayama is really, really good at, it’s talking dirty.





	the words i cannot speak

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for kink bingo (phone sex).

Kitayama is halfway asleep when the door opens and the last half of a conversation flows in, not even bothering to be quiet for his benefit.

“I don’t know what she wants me to do,” Fujigaya’s saying, but his voice sounds more sad than annoyed and sometimes Kitayama cares. “I can’t say things like that, I just can’t.”

“Another one who thought she was getting the sex kitten on stage, huh?” Yokoo replies sympathetically. “You should really start screening them. Or let me screen them.”

“They always say they want to know the real me,” Fujigaya goes on, and now he sounds really upset. “The Taisuke behind the pretty face. But then it doesn’t live up to their expectations.”

That tugs at Kitayama’s heart a little, though he can’t relate at all. Kitayama himself is the exact same idiotic freak off stage as he is on, but he knows Fujigaya isn’t. He used to be, Kitayama remembers as he recalls the entirely shameless Fujigaya from their early days, even before there was a 2 at the end of their group name, who was excited that girls found him sexy and was more than happy to put on a show for them. Now he’s older and much more reserved, at least off camera, and while Kitayama personally prefers this grown-up version of his main rival, it has to be difficult to lead a double life like that.

“What a bitch,” Yokoo says bluntly, and Kitayama silently agrees. “She shouldn’t give up on you just because you’re bad in bed—”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Fujigaya cuts him off. “I never said I was bad in bed. I’m _amazing_ in bed, okay.”

“You just said you can’t give her what she wants,” Yokoo tells him. “What is she asking of you?”

Fujigaya pauses, and now Kitayama is wide awake and very interested. “She wants me to…say things. Like, telling her what I want to do and stuff.”

“She wants you to talk dirty,” Yokoo summarizes, and Fujigaya makes a deflated noise. “Yeah, you get weird whenever anyone goes into detail like that.”

“She called me a _prude_ ,” Fujigaya spits out, and Kitayama almosts bursts out laughing. “What the hell. I can do things just fine, all kinds of things, I just can’t talk about it.”

“That’s something you can change, though,” Yokoo points out. “If she really likes you, she’ll help you get used to it little by little.”

Fujigaya scoffs. “Apparently she doesn’t, because she broke up with me.”

“Over that?!”

“Yeah. Ruined the mood or something.”

“Oh, Taisuke, I’m sorry.” Yokoo pauses. “What _happens_ when you try to say it? Like, is it just awkward? Or is it because it’s arousing? Because that is totally normal—oh my god, you can’t even talk about this with me, can you? Your face is bright red.”

Fujigaya makes a frustrated noise that sounds like it’s muffled by his hands. “It’s _embarrassing_ , Wataru. I feel like I’m in an AV movie or something. And a lot of it is just so…vulgar.”

“Okay, okay,” Yokoo says. “I kind of see her point, because you’re making _me_ uncomfortable right now with how creeped out you are. Maybe you should stick to nice girls.”

“They _are_ the nice girls!” Fujigaya insists. “The trashy girls get off on my discomfort.”

“Good lord, how many girls have you had?” Yokoo asks, then seems to think better of it. “Never mind, I probably don’t want to know. For a prude, you sure are a slut.”

Fujigaya laughs. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”

Back on the couch, Kitayama starts to slip back to sleep, bored with the conversation now. But before he does, he formulates a plan in his mind, because he’ll be damned if anyone taints their group image with prudeness.

*

It’s late when Kitayama pulls out his phone and scrolls down to Fujigaya’s number. He can probably go back an entire year in their text log with just one swipe, only messages about work and one particular exchange about a hat Fujigaya accused him of stealing after their last concert. The cursor blinks as he second-guesses his impromptu decision to get involved, having come to cherish their comfortable coexistence as it is right now. Does he really want to change that?

This is for Fujigaya, Kitayama reminds himself. It’s for Fujigaya’s happiness. And the happiness of everyone around him, because quite honestly, if Fujigaya isn’t happy, nobody’s happy. It’s Kitayama’s duty as sometimes-leader to step in when there’s a problem he’s perfectly capable of fixing.

Because if there’s one thing Kitayama can do really, really well, it’s talk dirty.

_Tell me about your last sexual experience_ , he types, not bothering with any pretense. He laughs as he imagines Fujigaya’s face as he reads the message, hopefully in public, even better if he’s out with Kawai. Kitayama finds it hard to believe that anyone who spends a lot of time with Kawai can’t be a complete bucket of filth (case in point: Hasshi), but he supposes that Kawai is vulgar enough on his own to make up for it.

_I think you meant this to go to someone else_ is the response, which is better than Kitayama expected. He knew starting with text was a good idea. It’s much easier to type your thoughts than say them.

_No, I meant it to go to you_ , Kitayama replies. _You woke me up with your angsting the other day and I want to help you_.

Speaking of things that are easier to type, Kitayama thinks with a frown as he waits for his phone to buzz again. Somehow admitting his good intentions is more uncomfortable than thinking about Fujigaya sticking it to some girl.

_How is telling you that going to help me?_

Kitayama is really hopeful now, because nothing in that message says “no, I don’t want to.” _Because it will get you used to talking about it. Don’t hold back—I want all the details._

_You are such a pervert. You really want to read about that?_

_This has nothing to do with me. This is your therapy_.

Nothing follows that, and Kitayama figures that Fujigaya’s actually typing it all out as instructed. Kitayama finds himself looking forward to it, curious how it happens with Fujigaya. He’s probably not easy to get into bed, even by someone he likes. He’s always so weird about being touched and having his own space; Kitayama was surprised to learn he gets laid at all.

When his phone goes off again, Kitayama dives for it. He’s more excited than he should be, especially since this is Fujigaya who will probably gloss over all of the good parts. His suspicions are proven right, not even a half a screen’s worth of short, concise sentences that sound more like they’re instructions listed in a textbook than an actual story. She had kissed him and pulled them into her bed, where he’d undressed them both and touched her before they had sex. It wasn’t even enough to get Kitayama interested, and it hardly takes anything to make that happen.

_Be. More. Specific. Where did you touch her?_

_On her chest and thighs, then between her legs._

That’s a little better. Kitayama shifts as he pictures this in his mind, like he’s watching an AV movie that happens to include Fujigaya. _Did you use your mouth anywhere?_

_Yes, on her chest._

_Where on her chest?_

_Her nipples_.

Kitayama grins at how easy this is. Clearly he has missed his calling in sex therapy. _Did they harden? Did she moan?_

_Yes and yes._

_Now tell me again what you did to her, using the answers you’ve already provided_.

Heat washes over Kitayama at the response, which has him gaping at his phone a little. _I pushed up her shirt and unhooked her bra, lowering my head to suck on her nipples while my hand slid up her thigh and into her panties._

Kitayama wonders how red Fujigaya’s face is, and where he is. If he’s at home locked in his bedroom or sneaking his texts under the table at a bar. The thought of him doing this in public makes Kitayama twitch, and he can’t even be ashamed about it because everything is so _hot_ right now.

_And then what happened?_

It takes awhile for Fujigaya’s next message to arrive, and Kitayama imagines he’s choosing his words carefully. This is the downside to using text, since with speech you just say what’s on your mind without much thought and can’t go back and erase it.

_Then I put my fingers inside her and she put her hand on me, and we touched each other like that until she told me to do it._

Kitayama shakes his head at the vagueness. _Was she wet?_

_Very_.

_Where did she put her hand on you?_

_Isn’t it obvious?_

_Say it anyway_.

_No. I think I’ve been explicit enough._

Sighing, Kitayama lets him slide. For now. _We’ll work up to it. Now repeat that last sentence, including how she felt and what exactly she said to you._

_I put my fingers inside her, where she was very wet, and she put her hand on me. We touched each other like that until she leaned close to my ear and said, “Do me, Taisuke-kun.”_

Kitayama groans in spite of himself, almost all the way hard. _Then what happened? And the more you give me in response, the less you have to repeat yourself._

He doesn’t even stop himself from reaching down, hissing as he makes contact with the bulge in his pants and rushes to shove down the clothing in the way. He’s already stroking himself when he gets Fujigaya’s answer, shuddering as he thumbs the head of his cock while opening the message.

_I removed my fingers and knelt between her legs, holding her by the hips as I entered her. We both moaned and her nails scratched down my back as I started to move._

“Good boy,” Kitayama says out loud, breathing harder as he speeds up and tries to type with one hand. _Tell me how it felt._

_It felt good. She was hot and wet around me, so tight that I had to push harder, and she moaned so beautifully the entire time. I felt her finish and she told me to do it, too, so I did._

Kitayama rolls over onto his back and fists himself, so close. _Try that last part again._

_She gushed all over me, getting so much tighter, and said, “Come for me,” which had me losing it and coming deep inside her._

Kitayama’s moan rings throughout his own ears as orgasm hits him, surging through his entire body and leaving him boneless as he releases over his fingers, some of it getting on his shirt. “ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps, then remembers about his phone.

_Not bad for a first try,_ he types. _Next time I want you to do it without my prompting._

_Next time?!_

Kitayama smirks through the struggle to catch his breath. _We’re only getting started_.

*

Even if he has to say so himself, Kitayama is a damn good friend. He may not be the kind of friend to sit there and listen to your problems (at least without falling asleep) or the kind who generously shares his food, but he’s also not the kind to sit by and do nothing, even if the other party is reluctant to the point of blatant refusal.

Usually he doesn’t like to make this much effort, but Fujigaya’s scandalized face every time they see each other is worth it. Besides, if Fujigaya didn’t want his help, he could just stop replying to his text messages.

_I’m going to show you how it’s done,_ Kitayama mails him during a particularly boring meeting after giving him a few days to cool off from the last session. _You might want to take your phone off the table._

To his credit, Fujigaya does not even look in Kitayama’s direction when his phone buzzes and he grabs for it, muttering an apology to their group manager before sneaking a peek at his message under the table. He’s perfectly in Kitayama’s peripheral vision and Kitayama watches his face as he scans the message, then just shoves his phone in his pocket without any big reaction.

_You’re getting better at handling this,_ Kitayama types. _Is it easier to hear it than to say it?_

He catches Fujigaya glancing down, but apparently the younger man has a lot of experience at sneak texting because Kitayama’s phone is shaking silently in his lap without Kitayama seeing Fujigaya reply. _Yes. By the way, you’re being really obvious._

Kitayama almost laughs. He leans back in his seat and slumps, pretending to be tired despite being unnaturally wide awake, and he types everything under the table while periodically checking to make sure he hasn’t been a victim of autocorrect.

_My last one was really rough and fast. We were in the backseat of her car, parked in the alley behind the bar where we met. She wrapped her legs around my waist and rubbed against me; I could already feel how hot she was for me. I kissed her deeply and pushed up her shirt, taking both of her nipples between my fingers to make her moan into my mouth, my hands slipping under her skirt to tease her through her panties._

He can tell when Fujigaya reads the text because he swallows hard, now pointedly staring at their manager like he’s completely engrossed in what she’s saying. Kitayama gives him a few minutes to calm down, then gets right back to it.

_She was so wet. Her body pushed back against my fingers like she was fucking herself on them. I couldn’t wait to be inside her. She opened my pants and pulled out my dick, squeezing as she jerked me, and I rushed to get a condom while she slipped her panties off of one leg. Then I plunged inside her tight pussy and fucked her so hard that the car rocked, making her scream my name as she came over and over again before I busted my nut deep inside her._

“Taisuke?” Yokoo calls suddenly, and Fujigaya nearly falls out of his chair from the force of his startled jump. Kitayama puts on a neutral face, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that Fujigaya’s ears are bright red, like he’d been out in the ice cold for a couple hours. And while Kitayama has known him for a long time, he’s never seen that particular reaction.

Fujigaya recovers well enough, giving his input on the topic they’re all discussing, though he makes the mistake of glancing at Kitayama when he mentions him. Something about singing lines; Kitayama is actually listening, but he’s also eyeing Fujigaya now that everyone _else_ is looking at him, and it’s not until they make eye contact that Kitayama knows exactly what is happening.

“Let’s take a break,” he says suddenly, and Fujigaya’s out the door before their manager can even roll her eyes. Kitayama gives it a couple minutes, long enough to stuff his face with crackers from the vending machine before casually walking outside where he knows Fujigaya is chain smoking.

Tamamori’s with him, but he’s considerably calmer and already putting out his first cigarette when Kitayama walks out the door. “Didn’t know you smoked,” he comments, though it’s with a devilish smirk and Kitayama punches him in the arm as Tamamori passes him to go back inside, cackling like an old lady.

“I thought it was easier to read it?” Kitayama asks evenly.

“ _No_ ,” Fujigaya says, his eyes raging as he spins around to point a half-lit cigarette at Kitayama. “We are not talking about this. It’s bad enough we’re texting about it.”

“I am trying to help you,” Kitayama says slowly, like he’s explaining something to a five year old. “If I desensitize you to the words, you can hear—and _say_ —them without freaking out like this.”

“I am not freaking out,” Fujigaya hisses, taking three pulls off of his cigarette in succession.

Kitayama gives him a knowing look. “Who do you think you’re fooling?”

“I don’t need your help.” Fujigaya turns around and looks out over the balcony. There’s not much to look at, just the alley behind the jimusho building, and Fujigaya seems to notice this at the same time and cringes, undoubtedly recalling Kitayama’s story.

“What is it?” Kitayama asks, stepping closer until he can bump Fujigaya’s arm, making him jump again. “What are you feeling right now?”

“What do you think?!” Fujigaya nearly screams, refusing to look at Kitayama. “You can’t just be explicit like that and expect me not to…react.”

Kitayama smiles, pleased with Fujigaya’s honesty. “That’s okay. The same thing happened to me when you told me yours. It’s supposed to be like that; that’s the point of talking like that to begin with, right?”

“I don’t think you understand,” Fujigaya grumbles, and Kitayama’s pretty sure that he’s shaking from something other than the cold.

“I think I do,” Kitayama says, plucking the cigarette from Fujigaya’s fingers and putting it out. “Don’t be so weird about it. I’m not some fragile girl who’s going to judge you. There is _nothing_ you can tell me that will make me uncomfortable—in fact, the filthier it is, the more I want to hear about it.”

“Pervert,” Fujigaya mutters.

Kitayama just shrugs. “You did well today, actually. And now you know the level you need to aim for. So now it’s your turn, and we’re going to bump it up a bit.”

“Oh god,” Fujigaya says, hanging his head. “I can’t talk yet, I just can’t. I can barely type those words, let alone for someone else to read.”

“I know,” Kitayama assures him. “I want you to send me an email with an entire story now. Beginning to end, and now you know what I expect of you.”

Fujigaya stands up straight and shoves his hands into his pockets. “What kind of story?”

“You want me to tell you here, or mail you about it?”

“Tell me here,” Fujigaya replies. “I can’t take anymore surprise texts today.”

“You say ‘can’t’ too much,” Kitayama tells him. “It’s off-putting. Anyway, I want you to tell me about your wildest experience now. Something kinky.”

Fujigaya’s face twitches. “I don’t have one.”

“A fantasy, then,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya’s head swivels to the side to stare at him. “Oh, you must have a really good one.”

Fujigaya seems to realize he’s looking straight at Kitayama and averts his eyes. “I am not telling you that.”

“I’ll tell you mine,” Kitayama offers. “I’ll even go first.”

“I really don’t want to know,” Fujigaya says, wrinkling his nose.

“There are two other options,” Kitayama goes on, “but they’re much worse.”

“What can possibly be worse than—”

“You can tell me how you do it to yourself,” Kitayama cuts him off, “or you can tell me what you’ve done with another guy.”

Fujigaya’s mouth gapes a little, and it’s almost amusing to watch him sputter out an incoherent reply.

“A combination of all three if you’re feeling ornery,” Kitayama says, then claps him on the arm as he heads back inside. “You have until the end of the week, or you’re getting mine in full detail _on your voicemail_.”

It occurs to Kitayama as he returns to their meeting that he shouldn’t really be enjoying this so much, but Fujigaya just looks so helpless that he can’t help it. Besides, it’s for the greater good, though Kitayama’s no longer sure that Fujigaya overcoming his discomfort is the only goal here.

*

Kitayama’s on the train on the way home from his mother’s on Sunday when he remembers about Fujigaya’s ‘homework’. He figures he’ll give Fujigaya until he wakes up in the morning, just to make the punishment even worse with his groggy morning voice. Or better, depending on how you look at it.

He’s in the bath later, debating on whether to share his wild night that may or may not have involved Kanjani8 and a sex swing when his phone goes off. Eyebrows raised, Kitayama dries his hand enough to reach for it and nearly drops it in the water when he sees the email.

The subject line is ‘If you ever tell anyone this, I swear I will kill you dead’, followed by an incredibly graphic description of what Fujigaya thinks being with a man would be like. He’s kissed a few guys, has done some groping in his time, but never anything more. It almost reads like he’s working it out in his head as he writhes, pondering the difference between girls and boys in this retrospect, and Kitayama’s already forming a theory in his mind by the time he gets to the good stuff.

All questionably unfortunate images aside, he’s a little proud.

He gets as far as ‘I bet a man would be better at sucking dick’ before he hits ‘call’ and turns on the speaker on his phone, placing the device far enough away to where it won’t get splashed but close enough so he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

“What,” is the deadpan answer.

“Read it to me,” Kitayama says.

“I’m not going to—”

“You’re ready,” Kitayama interrupts him. “Just read the words off your email.”

“It took me _three days_ to write that,” Fujigaya hisses. “I almost had to close myself in my closet out of shame.”

“Appropriate location,” Kitayama mutters, and Fujigaya gives a short, tense laugh. “You did really well. I’m actually surprised at your progress, but I think I know why.”

“I’m glad someone does.”

“I’m not positive yet,” Kitayama tells him. “I need to hear you read it first. Put the phone down or whatever, just read the email out loud.”

“Why does your voice sound all echo-y?” Fujigaya sks suddenly.

“Because I’m in the bath,” Kitayama answers. “Now start from the second paragraph and just pretend you’re reading some boring uni passage or something.”

Fujigaya snorts, followed by some shifting noises. “Fine, fine.”

“Can you hear me?” Kitayama asks.

“I bet it’s different,” Fujigaya starts in a monotone reading voice, clearly having moved the phone away from his ear. “Men know what each other like, after all. We have the same equipment. The few times I’ve…had my hand in another man’s pants, I felt confident. Also the atmosphere is different, between men and women. Women require things that men don’t, at least as far as I know. I probably don’t have to tell you that; you seem to have more experience than me in that department.”

“Haha,” Kitayama says out loud, but his body is already starting to roll a little in the warm water, mostly because he knows what’s coming.

“I’ve thought about it, you know,” Fujigaya goes on, then pauses to take a breath. It sounds more like a sigh, and Kitayama’s attention perks because it doesn’t sound annoyed at all. “Doing more than that with a man. I bet a man would be better at…sucking dick.”

“Good boy,” Kitayama breathes, leaning his head back as he reaches down to coil fingers around himself.

“The girls I’ve had aren’t really good at that.” Fujigaya’s voice has changed now, lowering in both pitch and volume, though it still pierces the air of the small apartment bathroom and flows right into Kitayama’s ears. “I’ve always craved it, you know. A good blowjob. One where the head of my cock hits the back of her throat and it’s okay, she can suck me like that, maybe even just stay there while I grab her head and fuck her mouth.”

“God,” Kitayama gasps, not really giving a shit if Fujigaya can hear him or not, because the thought of the reserved Fujigaya losing control like that is so _hot_.

“A man could handle that, I think. Maybe I could even do it in return, I don’t know. I don’t have a gag reflex and I can open my mouth pretty wide. I wonder if I would like doing that. I don’t mind the taste of come—I’ve tried my own before.”

Now Kitayama moans out loud, stroking himself slowly enough for his hips to snap up in protest. He’s imagining Fujigaya getting himself off, which is erotic enough on its own, but then Fujigaya brings his fingers to his mouth and tastes the fluid he’d just released onto them.

“I’m really curious about this, honestly,” Fujigaya continues. “I bet sex feels better, too, just because an ass is so much tighter. Fumi-kun says it’s good the other way as well, if you’re prepared right. Sometimes I feel it, you know. A little throbbing deep inside that tells me I want something there. The thought terrifies me, but at the same time it’s arousing.”

Bless Kawai for being a bigger pervert than Kitayama himself is. He’s momentarily jealous that Fujigaya can discuss these things with someone else, but he wouldn’t put it past Kawai to just volunteer this information without any prompting. Besides, Kitayama is the one who’s hearing all of this through his phone right now. Fujigaya’s voice keeps getting lower and huskier and if Kitayama didn’t know any better, he would think Fujigaya’s doing this on purpose, just to tease him.

“I think that’s enough,” Fujigaya says, his tone back to normal, and Kitayama bites back the whine that wants to come out when he squeezes himself hard. “Are you satisfied?”

“Not really,” Kitayama answers, and truer words have never been spoken as he’s rock-hard and desperate to get off. “You can do that on your own, too, you know.”

Fujigaya breathes rather loudly. “Do what?”

“Fuck yourself,” Kitayama says bluntly, smirking at Fujigaya’s shocked noise. “Your fingers are long enough, I think, and you’re pretty flexible. If I can reach it, so can you.”

“Reach…what?” Fujigaya asks, sounding like he regrets the words before they even come out of his mouth.

“Your prostate,” Kitayama answers. “It feels really fucking good when you touch it, but it’s pretty deep in there.”

Fujigaya makes a deflated sound. “I see.”

“I can walk you through it, if you want,” Kitayama offers, sinking down further into the bathwater that’s starting to lose its warmth.

“Now?” Fujigaya squeaks. “While we’re on the phone?”

Kitayama rolls his eyes even though he knows the other man can’t see it. “Would you rather I tell you in person?”

“No,” Fujigaya says quickly. “But I can’t—”

“You can,” Kitayama insists. “Just relax and let me guide you. It will be good, I promise.”

He accidentally lets out a moan as he thumbs the head of his cock, and Fujigaya makes a choked noise. “Are you actually…? While listening to me say these things?!”

“Am I what?” Kitayama counters, his arousal flaring even more now that Fujigaya knows what he’s doing. “Say it outright and I’ll answer you.”

“Are you getting off to this?” Fujigaya asks, though he sounds more amazed than irritated.

“Not good enough,” Kitayama says firmly.

“Are you…” Fujigaya huffs and it’s almost cute how much he’s struggling with himself right now. “Are-you-jerking-off?”

“Yes. Your voice gets deeper when you talk like that.”

“I…” Fujigaya pauses. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Kitayama gasps as he teases himself some more, wondering if Fujigaya likes his noises, too. “It’s time for me to talk and you to follow directions. I’m sure you have some type of lubrication, right?”

Fujigaya stammers a bit, but eventually grunts in affirmation.

“Get it. Lock yourself in your room where you won’t be interrupted. Hide under your covers if you want. You need to be relaxed for this or it won’t happen.”

“How am I supposed to relax when you’re _on the phone_?” Fujigaya exclaims.

“You can start by letting yourself enjoy this instead of pretending to hate it,” Kitayama says pointedly. “You already know I’m enjoying it, or do I need to be louder?”

A whine sounds from Fujigaya’s end, but it sounds reluctant. “I am so not going to be able to look at you anymore.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kitayama assures him. “Just do what I say and you’ll forget all about me.”

Fujigaya doesn’t say anything for awhile, but there’s a lot of rustling around and his next words are awfully low. “Okay. I put in my headphones to free up both hands.”

“Good call,” Kitayama says, arching in anticipation. “Now take off your pants and anything underneath. Lay on your back and lift your knees up to your chest as far as you can. Run your hands over your ass and thighs to get used to your own touch. Play with yourself if it helps you relax.”

“Oh my god,” Fujigaya mutters under his breath, sounding more embarrassed than turned on, though Kitayama suspects it’s a mixture of both. More moving around, then some harsh exhaling as Fujigaya presumably explores his own body.

“Okay?” Kitayama prompts.

“Yeah.”

“Coat three fingers of your dominant hand with lube and slowly work your way towards your hole. You’ll probably get jumpy and that’s okay.”

Now Fujigaya makes a pained noise, but it trails off into a gasp. “ _Shit_.”

“There you go,” Kitayama says gently. “Don’t hold back. Whatever you want to say is okay.”

“All I want to say is how much I hate you,” Fujigaya grumbles, and Kitayama laughs.

“But it feels good, right? You want to keep going?”

“…yes.”

Kitayama grins smugly. “Ease your middle finger inside, little by little. Your body will try to protest but you can get past it if you relax.”

“I can’t—”

“You _can_.”

Fujigaya doesn’t argue any more, just makes some frustrated noises as he tries to penetrate himself. “Mitsu, it’s not working.”

“Touch yourself then.” Kitayama swallows down another noise as he imagines what Fujigaya must look like right now. He wonders if Fujigaya’s ears are red. “Think of something that makes you hot and focus on that as you jerk off.”

“All I can think about is _you_!” Fujigaya hisses, almost a growl, and it has Kitayama gripping his own cock harder.

“You can think about me if you want,” Kitayama taunts him, though he’s mostly serious. “I’m doing it too, you know. And I’m a hell of a lot closer than you are. I’ve been holding back my noises because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but maybe you want to hear them after all.”

Fujigaya doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he sighs dramatically. “Maybe I do.”

“Oh good, because it kind of hurts keeping them in,” Kitayama says, followed by a soft moan that has Kitayama’s skin tingling because he’s doing it for someone else.

“Oh,” Fujigaya breathes.

“You like that?” Kitayama asks, the words just slipping out as he gets into it.

“Yeah.”

“Try again,” Kitayama tells him in a strained voice. “Push your middle finger in to the first knuckle.”

Fujigaya doesn’t answer, at least other than a soft “ah,” which has Kitayama groaning shamelessly.

“Did it work this time?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya gasps. “It feels weird.”

“That’s okay,” Kitayama tells him. “Push it the rest of the way in, then move it in and out until it’s loose enough to put in another.”

Fujigaya’s deep breath is audible and Kitayama shivers from it, letting out a faint noise that seems to make Fujigaya breathe harder. He must _really_ like hearing Kitayama like this, which works out because Kitayama is rather noisy when it comes down to it. The feeling may be mutual, even, at least Kitayama’s ears are straining for the faint sounds that gradually acquire more depth as time goes on.

“Okay,” Fujigaya says so suddenly that Kitayama jumps. “I have…two.”

“Good boy,” Kitayama says again, this time when Fujigaya can hear him, and it earns a sharp gasp. “Now you have to listen to your body, because I don’t know where to tell you to go. You said before that you felt something throb inside you, so try to find that.”

Fujigaya grunts again and Kitayama brings both hands to his chest, busying himself with his nipples to keep from touching his cock. He’s so close that he’s liable to come with the next noise Fujigaya makes. This turns out to be a very good precaution, because the next thing Kitayama hears is a moan loud enough to reverberate off of the tile in his bathroom, seeming to surprise both of them.

“Oh,” Fujigaya says, his breathing quickening. “Oh my… _fuck_.”

“Told you it would feel good,” Kitayama hisses through his teeth as his hips rock upward without his permission, making quite a big splash. “Can you reach it okay?”

“Not really,” Fujigaya replies, followed by a short laugh. “You should see me, I feel like a pretzel.”

“God I would love to see you right now,” Kitayama says without thinking.

A pause. “You would?”

“Yeah,” Kitayama replies. He’s running his hands all over his body and everywhere he touches tingles in a desperate need for release. “Maybe I could help you reach it, too. Would you like that? I could push my fingers in and out of you, hitting you deep while opening you up for me. I could watch you write beneath me as I rub that spot, leaving you helpless and whimpering for nothing but my touch.”

“Shut up,” Fujigaya says, a mix of incredulity and pure, unadulterated arousal that Kitayama never knew he wanted to hear so badly from this one. “Shut up and keep talking.”

Kitayama smiles. “Now jerk off with your other hand, and I want to hear all of it.”

He has a feeling this is the easiest request he’s made of Fujigaya thus far, particularly with how quickly Fujigaya’s moans fill the air. They’re _gorgeous_ and Kitayama can’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around his cock again, his own noises joining Fujigaya’s in the acoustics of the bathroom.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Fujigaya hisses suddenly, his breath hitching with each inhale.

“Tell me how it feels,” Kitayama prompts him, though he doesn’t expect anything.

What he hears blows his mind. “It’s so tight, oh my god, how could anyone fit a dick in there, I would come so fast fucking something this tight, _fuck_ this is good, my wrist hurts but I can’t stop, holy shit I’m gonna come so hard—”

Kitayama’s fisting his cock before Fujigaya’s unrestrained moan pierces his eardrums, his entire body jerking as he spills over his fingers. The cold water feels nice against his hot skin, making him shudder even more, his orgasm heightened by Fujigaya’s panting for air.

“I…” Fujigaya starts. “Wow.”

“You’re welcome,” Kitayama tells him, his own voice a bit breathy. “Try to enjoy it before you freak out.”

“I don’t think I have the energy to freak out,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama laughs. “I can’t believe I just said all of that, and _did_ …yeah.”

“You did very well,” Kitayama tells him. “Better than I expected.”

Fujigaya inhales sharply, but his exhale is fully relaxed. “What’s next?”

“Well, I’ve exhausted all of my therapy techniques,” Kitayama tells him, his heart still pounding in his ears. “Now all you can do is test it out on the next girl you date. Or boy, whatever.”

“Yeah…” Fujigaya trails off. “Okay, well, um, thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Kitayama replies, meaning the words in every possible way as he dries his hand enough to push the ‘end’ button on his phone. The bathroom seems strangely silent afterwards, and Kitayama ends up running a new bath to wash the mess away and soak his still tingling muscles.

The running water does absolutely nothing to drown out the remains of that voice moaning and sputtering filthy words in his head.

*

The next time they all work together, Kitayama doesn’t know what to expect. Predictably Fujigaya tries to avoid looking at him, but that’s in character for him so it may not necessarily be from his own discomfort. He’d probably just decided to forget about it, which is fine with Kitayama. He’d done what he’d set out to do, and succeeded because he’s amazing.

He thinks about fucking with Fujigaya some more, maybe sending some texts or approaching him off guard at work, but the atmosphere is perfect as it is and as fun as it would be to get him all flustered again, it’s probably not a good idea. The only reason Kitayama had gotten involved in the first place was to keep Fujigaya from making them all look bad with unfavorable scandal details (if they’re going to be caught with a girl, they should at least be good in bed), and now that’s solved. Because Kitayama is amazing.

So amazing that he sits at home on their next night off, completely disinterested in going out and getting some ass of his own. He’d had some fun on the phone with Ohkura earlier, but Ohkura was exhausted from Eito’s touring and Kitayama wasn’t up to doing any of the work. In fact, the only thing that had gotten him off was pretending Ohkura was someone else, which isn’t as mean as it sounds since most of the time Ohkura calls out the wrong name anyway.

It’s late enough to be indecent when someone knocks on his door, but whoever it is has good timing since Kitayama had just gotten out of a long relaxing bath, wrapped in a soft fluffy robe. He’s still drying his hair when he goes to answer it, standing on his toes to look out the peephole.

It’s Fujigaya. “What are you doing here?”

Fujigaya blinks at him. “Do you always walk around in a robe like Hugh Hefner?”

“Do you always show up at people’s apartments uninvited?” Kitayama shoots back. “For your information, I just got out of the bath. And it’s fucking cold outside, so either come in or talk to me through the door.”

He steps aside to let Fujigaya past, eyeing him as he unlaces his boots and shrugs off his coat. He’s not wearing a hat and the tips of his ears are bright red from the cold, but not in the same way they’d been that time before in their meeting.

“Do you want some tea or something?” Kitayama asks, his mother’s voice in the back of his head nagging him to be a polite host even if he doesn’t want to.

“I’m good, thanks,” Fujigaya replies, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he glances around Kitayama’s living room. There’s not much to look at considering the most vibrant thing in the entire apartment is Fujigaya himself, who is wearing some atrociously patterned shirt and a pair of fashionably-ripped jeans. He actually looks like he’d been about to go out, or had already been out, his hair all floofy and ridiculous arm jewelry in place.

“Are you drunk?” Kitayama asks suddenly, because that would explain everything.

“I had a few,” Fujigaya replies, “but I still hate myself, so I wouldn’t say I’m drunk yet.”

Kitayama blinks. “Why do you hate yourself?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” Fujigaya says, staring at the big-screen TV that’s turned off.

The words hit Kitayama like they were physically thrown at him and he has to lean against the wall to regain his balance. “That kind of offends me,” he says, half serious. “There are much worse people you could think about than me.”

“I suppose.” Fujigaya folds his arms in front of his stomach and Kitayama’s instantly reminded of when they were young, when Fujigaya was struggling with his weight and he’d stand like that to hide what little flesh he had around his middle. It’s the most insecure Kitayama has ever seen him, and seeing it again now says more than his words ever could.

“Sit down,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya obliges without protest. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing really happened,” Fujigaya replies with a sigh. “I was out drinking with Fumi-kun and he noticed that I was more open about certain topics, so he told me everything I never wanted to know about him and basically propositioned me.”

Kitayama raises his eyebrows. “Damn. I take it you didn’t accept?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Fujigaya answers crossly. “I can’t even look at him like that, because he’s my best friend. Which made me wonder why I can look at _you_ like that, because we’re not even friends.”

“Well, I’m hotter than Kawai,” Kitayama says simply, grinning when Fujigaya lifts his eyes to glare. “Come on, you have to give me that.”

“Whatever,” Fujigaya grumbles, which is just as good as affirmation.

“So why are you here?” Kitayama prompts, even though he already knows the answer. He wants to hear Fujigaya say it on his own.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fujigaya scoffs.

“Say it,” Kitayama demands, and he notices how Fujigaya shivers instinctively.

“I want to…” Fujigaya starts, then his face flushes red and he stares at the floor. “I want to hook up with you, okay.”

“Hook up?” Kitayama repeats, taking entirely too much joy out of the way Fujigaya cringes as he steps closer to the couch. “Be. More. Specific.”

“ _I want you to fuck me_ ,” Fujigaya hisses through his teeth.

Once he’s close enough, he threads his fingers into Fujigaya’s hair and urges his head back to reluctantly meet Kitayama’s stare. “Is that all?”

“And I want your mouth around me,” Fujigaya goes on, his eyes darkening, but Kitayama just shakes his head disapprovingly. “I want you to suck me off.”

His eyes widen when Kitayama drops to the floor, kneeling in front of Fujigaya and gently spreading his knees. “What do you want me to suck?” he asks innocently. “There’s a lot of things I can put my mouth on, you know.”

“Suck my _cock_ ,” Fujigaya says, gasping when Kitayama’s hands lift to his belt. “Fuck, Mitsu, you’re really going to do it.”

“I may pity you a little for getting crappy blowjobs up until now,” Kitayama admits, and Fujigaya offers a small smile before Kitayama unfastens his jeans and his breath hitches. He’s already hard, swelling even more under Kitayama’s close scrutiny, which continues even after Fujigaya lifts his hips for Kitayama to push his jeans down enough to be comfortable.

“Are you just gonna stare at it?” Fujigaya asks.

Kitayama tilts his head, pretending to look confused. “What do you want me to do again?”

“You are something else,” Fujigaya says, then lets out a low moan when Kitayama wraps his fingers around the shaft and gives him a firm stroke. “ _Please_ put it in your mouth.”

“Ooh, polite even,” Kitayama teases, squeezing him tighter when he glares down at him. “On one condition—you have to talk the _whole_ time. If you stop, I stop.”

“What am I even supposed to say?” Fujigaya asks, hips rocking when Kitayama thumbs the tip. He’s already leaking and Kitayama’s dying to taste it.

“I don’t care if you just say my name and swear over and over,” Kitayama tells him, leaning in for a lick that has Fujigaya hitting a high note. “Just talk.”

“Okay, fine,” Fujigaya agrees, and Kitayama takes the head past his lips. “Oh. Mitsu. Fuck. Your _tongue_.”

Kitayama takes that as a request and flicks his tongue all around, licking up the precome and teasing the slit a little until Fujigaya is shuddering before him. Then he slowly takes in more, not because he has to but because Fujigaya’s words get filthier with each centimeter, mostly about how Kitayama’s mouth feels better than any girl he’s been inside and how badly he wants to fuck it. He’s reduced to incoherent babbling when Kitayama gets all the way down, swallowing around the head and feeling it all the way in the back of his throat before pulling back enough to be comfortable.

“I will do whatever you want forever if you keep doing exactly that,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama hums in amusement. “Oh, that’s nice, too. Show me what else you can do.”

That’s actually _really hot_ and Kitayama starts to move back and forth, flicking his eyes up to meet Fujigaya’s that are watching him. Kitayama certainly understands the appeal of seeing your dick go in and out of someone’s mouth, using his tongue to lap along the underside and make it extra messy.

Fujigaya’s eyes are so dark, and when he turns to jerk uncontrollably Kitayama notices his ears are red all over. It must be unfortunate to have such an obvious arousal reaction, though he supposes it’s not that obvious if you don’t know exactly what it is. But now Kitayama does know, and plans on using this information to his advantage at every possible opportunity.

“You look evil even like this,” Fujigaya says, his voice exceptionally deep and breathy now. “I really like how your mouth looks around me.”

Kitayama abruptly stops and gives Fujigaya a pointed look.

“How your mouth looks around _my dick_ ,” Fujigaya amends, and Kitayama picks up where he left off. He should have been doing his sex therapy this way all along, he realizes. Blowjobs are excellent forms of motivation, especially Kitayama’s. “God, I don’t ever want you to stop, but at the same time I want more.”

Inwardly Kitayama decides on a compromise and slips his hand between Fujigaya’s legs, slowly rolling his balls and feeling him harden even more in his mouth. Shaky fingers touch his face and Kitayama leans into it, the light pressure feeling nice on his strained jaw. Fujigaya is so hard and Kitayama keeps tasting tiny blasts of precome, totally getting into it if just to watch Fujigaya’s face as he starts to fall apart.

“Feels so good,” Fujigaya mutters, repeating it four more times as his hand slides up into Kitayama’s hair. He’s gentle at first, fingers sifting through the still-damp strands and it has Kitayama moving a little faster, which makes Fujigaya tighten his grip. “Mitsu, oh fuck, don’t stop.”

There is absolutely no way Kitayama would even dream of stopping, especially when Fujigaya’s fisting his hair hard enough to sting his scalp and rolling his hips to push deeper into Kitayama’s mouth. Kitayama wants to tell him that it’s okay, he can take over if he wants, though a large part of his reasoning is that his neck is starting to hurt from all the bobbing. Either way, he reaches up to cover Fujigaya’s hand with his own and pushes down pointedly, pulling a low groan from Fujigaya’s lungs as he catches on quickly.

“Are you sure?” Fujigaya asks, and Kitayama does it again. “Fuck, you’re too good to me.”

Kitayama hopes that Fujigaya remembers this the next time they argue over something dumb at work, but he’s not really thinking about that right now. His own erection is rubbing against the cloth of his robe and Kitayama has to stop himself from reaching down to touch it, very aware of the other thing Fujigaya wants from him and more than happy to wait for it. He doesn’t usually get so aroused just by sucking cock, but Fujigaya is just so breathtakingly erotic right now that he can’t help it. His voice has a lot to do with it, too.

It hurts a little when Fujigaya starts thrusting up into his mouth, pushing his head down for ultimate depth, but it’s nothing Kitayama can’t handle. He doesn’t think Fujigaya will last too much longer anyway, the unintelligible syllables fading into pure moans that fuel Kitayama along. Fujigaya’s head keeps falling back but he forces it straight up, eyes locked on Kitayama and this might be the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“Oh, I’m almost there,” Fujigaya gasps, pulling Kitayama back far enough for him to just suck on the head. “Just like that, oh my god, here it comes.”

Kitayama hollows out his cheeks just in time for Fujigaya’s cock to pulse in his mouth, accompanied by a groan so low that it vibrates Kitayama’s tongue. He sucks it all down, lapping at the softening length until Fujigaya jerks him away, fingers still twisted in his hair.

“Oh my god,” Fujigaya says again, his breaths louder than his voice as his chest visibly rises and falls from the force. “That was amazing.”

A smug smirk forms on Kitayama’s face even as he’s popping his jaw. “You’re welcome.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Fujigaya says, turning to face Kitayama as the latter sits next to him on the couch. “I swear I will make that up to you, like, fifty times.”

“As tempting as fifty blowjobs is,” Kitayama begins, “I distinctly remember you saying you wanted something else from me.”

Fujigaya hums in amusement. “I can’t even lift my arms right now to pull my pants up. You’re going to have to give me a bit.”

“That’s fine,” Kitayama tells him, leaning back against the couch and bringing one hand down the center of his chest, pulling his robe open on the way. “I can entertain myself.”

His head falls back as he wraps his fingers around his cock, unapologetically stroking it from base to tip, a small groan spilling from his lips. He shudders from finally getting contact, hips slowly rocking up into his own touch, and he brings his other hand up to pinch a nipple.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Fujigaya says, his voice much deeper and closer than before. “Is this what you did while I was telling you those dirty things?”

“Yes,” Kitayama answers, arching at the words. “Both times.”

“Both…” Fujigaya starts to repeat, then presumably figures it out. “You got off the first time? When we were texting?”

“Yes.”

“So did I.”

Kitayama turns to look at him now, so close that their noses almost touch. “Now I’m disappointed I didn’t make you talk about what you wanted to do to _me_.”

“I can still do that,” Fujigaya says in a promising tone that makes Kitayama moan softly. “I’ll show you that all of your hard work has paid off.”

“Tell me.” Kitayama reluctantly turns away, and not just because his head is fucking heavy right now. “Put your lips up to my ear and whisper all of the filthy things you want to do to me.”

Fujigaya’s hot breath precedes his voice, making Kitayama arch before he even starts speaking. “First I want to tease you, put my hands all over you except where you want them, kind of like this.” He runs his fingers lightly along Kitayama’s collarbone and Kitayama shivers. “I’ll put my mouth on you, too, maybe bite a little if you like it.”

“I like it,” Kitayama rushes to say, and instantly Fujigaya’s teeth are on his neck, nipping hard enough to make Kitayama jerk. “Keep going. What else?”

“Maybe I would tie you up, or at least your wrists,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama’s breath hitches. “So you couldn’t touch yourself like a shameless whore.”

Kitayama squeaks when Fujigaya pulls his hand away, pinning them both at his sides. “You’re a little sadistic, aren’t you?”

Fujigaya just laughs, a low, evil chuckle, and Kitayama thrusts up towards nothing. “But you’re the one going inside me tonight.”

“Then I’m going to need my hands back,” Kitayama tells him. “Unless you want to try to do it yourself again.”

“I didn’t think this all the way through,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama laughs. “Besides, I really like to be touched.”

“Where?” Kitayama asks.

“Everywhere.”

Kitayama easily gets out of Fujigaya’s grip and grabs him by the hips, pulling him on top of him and shoving his pants and underwear down the rest of the way. Fujigaya catches on fast and pulls his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but his necklaces and stupid bracelets as Kitayama’s eyes rake down his body.

“Like what you see?”

“I do.”

He’s even harder when Fujigaya shoves off his robe and straddles his waist, a small moan pressed right into Kitayama’s ear when Kitayama’s hands roam his back. “I’m gonna be so tight for you, Mitsu. I bought something, you know. Something to use instead of my fingers. I could barely get it in and you’re much bigger.”

Kitayama’s next noise is louder, his hands dropping to Fujigaya’s ass and squeezing when Fujigaya gasps. “Did you think about me when you used it?”

“Yes. I pretended it was you fucking me.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama breathes, and Fujigaya licks the shell of his ear. “Oh, I will end up taking you right here if you keep doing that.”

“You like this?” Fujigaya asks, his voice almost penetrating, and Kitayama’s not too sure whether he’s proud or regretful that Fujigaya can now live up to his full sex potential. “You want me to ride you, Mitsu? I’ve had a lot of practice moving like that for Firebeat. I bet I’d be really good at it.”

Kitayama remembers how they used to end Firebeat and twitches at the thought of Fujigaya bouncing on him like that. “There should be lube in the end table.”

“You keep it in the _living room_?” Fujigaya asks incredulously, but he’s already leaning over to get it.

“Never know where you’ll need it,” Kitayama replies. “And I don’t see you complaining.”

“Not complaining, just mocking,” Fujigaya clarifies, and Kitayama rolls his eyes. Fujigaya catches the tail end of it and frowns at him. “Hey, I was going to do it myself, but maybe I won’t now.”

“Do what?” Kitayama asks, smirking a little.

Fujigaya sighs. “Put my fingers inside of me.”

“Do it anyway,” Kitayama tells him, his skin tingling at the possibility of getting to see this. “Get your hole nice and stretched and I’ll go deep for you.”

“Fuck, please,” Fujigaya hisses, looking entirely too comfortable rubbing lube onto his fingers, and Kitayama wonders how often he does it on his own. “I haven’t been able to really hit that spot properly, even with the toy.”

“I’ve got you,” Kitayama tells him, and Fujigaya inhales sharply in anticipation. “But first show me how you think about me.”

“Well, I’m usually laying down, but…” Fujigaya trails off as he reaches between his legs, straightening his spine to reach behind himself. “ _Ah_.”

Kitayama can’t see it exactly, but he has the best seat in the house for Fujigaya’s face as he does it. His eyes fall shut and his lips part, soft noises spilling from them as he starts to rock back. It’s incredibly hot to watch and Kitayama finds himself gripping Fujigaya’s thighs, holding them apart and keeping him upright so that he can stretch himself more easily. His head falls back, exposing his throat where his adam’s apple jumps endlessly, and Kitayama’s first instinct is to lean forward and press his mouth to it.

He does, and Fujigaya’s next moan tickles his lips. “You like this?”

“I like everything,” Fujigaya replies, and Kitayama feels that, too.

One of Kitayama’s hands drifts between Fujigaya’s legs, finding him hard again. He takes it loosely in his hand, pulling a beautiful noise from Fujigaya as well as some faster movement in the back. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so tight,” Fujigaya hisses, “but not unbearably so. It’s actually easier because you’re here.”

Kitayama reaches for the lube and manages to coat his fingers without Fujigaya noticing. “How badly do you want me?”

“So fucking badly,” Fujigaya answers, almost angrily. “I’m ready to jump on your dick right now.”

“Mm.” Kitayama mouths all around Fujigaya’s throat and drops to his collarbone. “Soon enough.”

“I have three in, Mitsu, please take over now,” Fujigaya says, whining a little and it turns on Kitayama even more. He was going to make him wait a little longer, but _he’s_ pretty much done waiting and slips his hand behind Fujigaya’s balls, giving a short laugh at how quickly Fujigaya pulls his own away. He pushes one finger through the contracting rim and moans at how Fujigaya’s body reacts, squeezing around him and pulling him deeper.

The second finger has a bit more resistance, but it’s the kind that has Fujigaya choking on his breath and pushing back. “You’re so desperate for it,” Kitayama says, pressing the words into his skin. “Let me hear you.”

Fujigaya does not disappoint. Kitayama’s barely curling his fingers before Fujigaya’s moans infiltrate his ears, making him move faster. Fujigaya’s body is so responsive that he finds that spot in no time, reveling in the string of “right there, don’t stop, feels so good” mixed in with his noises. Kitayama keeps it up until Fujigaya’s trembling on top of him, his cock leaving a wet smear along Kitayama’s stomach when he jerks particularly hard, and Fujigaya whimpers when he pulls out his fingers.

“You are so cute,” Kitayama tells him, and Fujigaya shoots him a glare. “I don’t suppose you have a condom.”

“You don’t keep those in your couch cushions, too?” Fujigaya mocks, but he’s already leaning back for his pants. “I should have one.”

Kitayama takes a second to appreciate Fujigaya’s torso stretching out, cock hard and sticking straight up in the air. He gives the tip a quick swipe and Fujigaya’s abdomen concaves with his moan, fire in his eyes as he pulls himself back up and rips open the condom package. Kitayama hisses as Fujigaya rolls it onto him, more worked up than he’d thought, and his hands are already on Fujigaya’s hips.

“Don’t rush it,” he says. “If you let yourself get used to it as you go, it will feel better.”

“Okay,” Fujigaya says, biting his lip as he hovers over Kitayama’s lap, one hand holding Kitayama steady. “Here I go.”

They both gasp as Kitayama breaches the tight ring of muscle, slowly pushing through it until he can feel Fujigaya all around him, hot and tight and Kitayama can barely wait until Fujigaya lowers himself all the way, making a surprised noise as he bottoms out.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Kitayama says gently, rubbing circles on Fujigaya’s hips with his thumbs for comfort. “Give it a little bit to adjust.”

“Do I feel good?” Fujigaya asks, and Kitayama nods as hard as he can. “I keep tightening around you, I bet that feels amazing.”

“It does,” Kitayama assures him, losing his breath a little. “I really, really, _really_ want you to move, but I also don’t want to hurt you.”

Fujigaya tries to hide the smile that forms on his face, but he fails. Kitayama tests the waters by giving a small thrust upward, which has Fujigaya tossing his head back with a loud moan. That’s good enough for Kitayama, who guides Fujigaya by his hips and rocks his own in contrast.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Fujigaya gasps, starting to move on his own. “I don’t have to talk during this, right?”

“All I want you to do is bounce,” Kitayama gets out, a low groan pulled from his throat as Fujigaya does exactly that. “Mm, ride me, Taisuke.”

It takes a few tries for him to balance his weight, but then he finds a rhythm and Kitayama’s nails dig into his thighs from the pressure, his cock slamming into Fujigaya without any effort on his end. Still he thrusts upward, meeting Fujigaya’s efforts one by one and getting even deeper, and all he knows is how it feels as Fujigaya’s body welcomes him over and over again. Moans sound from both of them and somehow they mesh together, in harmony even like this, and it clouds Kitayama’s mind so much that he leans forward to latch his mouth onto Fujigaya’s chest, craving the skin-to-skin contact more than just where they unite, and Fujigaya steadies himself on Kitayama’s shoulders, rolling his hips more fluidly and Kitayama may actually like this better.

Fujigaya does, too, at least Kitayama assumes so when he trembles and tightens around Kitayama’s cock at the new angle. He’s clinging to Kitayama now, little whines mixed in with his other noises and Kitayama bucks up a little harder to give him more. Fujigaya’s cock bumps his chest again and he’s leaking all over, his moans becoming strangled as Kitayama reaches between them to take it in his hand.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya says, a little frantically, his body roaring back to life with one stroke. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“That’s okay,” Kitayama tells him, then leans up to kiss just behind his ear. “Do you like how my cock feels inside you?”

“Yes, god yes,” Fujigaya replies.

“I could fuck you even harder,” Kitayama goes on, twisting his wrist to rub the tip on the upstroke. “Bend you over and really pound into you. You’d like that too, I think.”

Fujigaya’s rocking back and forth now, pushing down onto Kitayama’s cock and up into his hand. “Yes, yes.”

“You really just like my cock, I think,” Kitayama goes on, and Fujigaya arches. “Say it. Tell me you like my cock.”

“I like your cock,” Fujigaya gasps, and Kitayama hums in approval as the man in his lap starts to lose it. “Fuck, Mitsu, I’m gonna come, _Mitsu_ —”

Hot release splatters on their chests and Kitayama jerks him through it, groaning at the way Fujigaya tightens around him. That combined with Fujigaya’s beautiful noises have him following right behind, grabbing Fujigaya by both hips to slam him down hard a few more times before orgasm takes him over and claims his mind for a little while.

“I can’t move,” Fujigaya says, his full weight leaning on Kitayama’s chest, and Kitayama doesn’t much mind feeling the rapid beat of Fujigaya’s heart alongside his own as they both calm down.

“You already said that,” is all he says.

He feels Fujigaya tense. “Mitsu—”

“Don’t,” Kitayama cuts him off. “Just enjoy how you feel and don’t put too much thought into it, okay?”

Fujigaya relaxes considerably, but that may have been from the way Kitayama gently rubs his lower back. “Okay.”

Now Kitayama just needs to take his own advice.

*

Kitayama has to admit, he expected much worse consequences from actually having sex with Fujigaya. If anything, the other man is more pleasant to him, smiling when he walks into the room like he’s any of the other members. Fujigaya even jokes around with him and talks to him like he used to do when they were young.

“If I had known that screwing you would make you nicer to me, I would have done it years ago,” he hisses before a performance.

Fujigaya just rolls his eyes and elbows Kitayama, getting mostly swoosh. “Don’t make me think about that right before I go on stage.”

By the second chorus, Kitayama is convinced that Fujigaya’s thinking about it more than he should, because he’s blindsided with fanservice and nearly goes deaf from the audience’s screeching. He’s momentarily aggravated that he wasn’t warned about it ahead of time, but even he has to admit that it’s more appealing when he’s caught off guard.

“Something you two want to tell us?” Yokoo taunts when they get offstage, and Kitayama shoves at him a little.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Kitayama replies, amused at how he’s innocent for once. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Oh please, you act like I jumped you or something,” Fujigaya says as he breezes past them. “All I did was put my arm around you. Don’t be such a prude.”

Kitayama can’t help it; he bursts out laughing and notices Fujigaya looking quite pleased with himself as he continues on his way to the dressing room. Yokoo looks at both of them and just shakes his head, probably figuring he’s better off not knowing, and Kitayama can’t decide if it’s better or worse that they’ve seemed to suddenly regress back to their younger days.

On their next night off, Kitayama’s once again sitting at home wondering when he got too old to want to go out anymore. Ordering some takeout and flopping on his couch with a blanket and Netflix is more appealing than navigating through throngs of sweaty people and chatting up complete strangers for a one night stand. The beer is the same, though, and Kitayama takes a long swig as he stuffs his face and relaxes after yet another whirlwind month of single promotions.

His nose wrinkles when his phone rings, but his eyebrows rise when he sees who it is. “Yes?” he answers.

“What are you doing?” Fujigaya asks casually, like they’re best friends and they talk on the phone all the time.

“Absolutely nothing,” Kitayama replies, stretching out now that he’s done stuffing his face. “I don’t want to move until tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Fujigaya agrees. “I’m beat.”

Kitayama purses his lips as he waits for him to go on. “So what do you want?”

“Oh, I thought we could fuck over the phone,” Fujigaya says clearly, and now Kitayama’s eyebrows are up to his hairline.

“Are you serious?” Kitayama asks, but his body is already hoping that Fujigaya is serious and ready to go.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything else,” Fujigaya tells him. “I’ve been laying here for like three hours trying not to think about it, because when I think about it all I wanna do is touch myself, and if I’m gonna do that I’d rather hear your voice as I do it.”

“You’re lucky I’m home,” Kitayama taunts him. “I almost went out.”

“That might have been hotter,” Fujigaya whispers in this raspy tone that he has no business knowing how to use. “I wonder if I could get you off in public. Can you imagine it? All of those people around with no idea what I’m saying to you.”

“Oh my _god_ , Taisuke,” Kitayama says, both flustered and proud. “You’re such a freak.”

“You made me this way,” Fujigaya reminds him. “This is all your fault.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Kitayama asks, sinking down into the couch and slipping his hand under the blanket.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow,” Fujigaya says in a lower voice, and Kitayama shivers. “I hope you still keep lube in your couch because you’ll be needing it.”

Kitayama’s already reaching for it. “Why don’t you just come over and do it for real?”

“It’s cold outside,” Fujigaya whines.

“Lazy,” Kitayama chides.

“I don’t see you rushing over here either.”

“You still live at home,” Kitayama points out. “I’m not exactly family-safe.”

Fujigaya scoffs. “You’re not _that_ loud.”

“You haven’t gone inside me yet.”

A low growl vibrates Kitayama’s ear through the phone and goes straight to his cock, which he’s already rubbing through his sweatpants. “First I want your clothes off. All of them.”

Changing costumes during concerts is nothing compared to how fast Kitayama yanks his shirt over his head and kicks off his sweats and boxers. “Are yours off?”

“Yup,” Fujigaya replies. “I’m touching myself, too. Thinking about your ass.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do to it,” Kitayama says, moaning softly as he wraps his fingers around his length and starts to pull.

“I think I’ll suck you off first,” Fujigaya says, and Kitayama squeezes harder at the thought. “Repay the favor, you know. Only while I’m down there, I’ll get you ready for me, pushing my fingers into you as I take you all the way back in my throat. Does that sound nice?”

“Fuck yes,” Kitayama hisses, balancing the phone on his shoulder as he fumbles to lube his fingers and shove them between his legs, which he lifts to his shoulders. One of the benefits of being short is that he can do this more easily, and situations like now make it worth all of the jokes and phone books. He’s already moaning at the first touch to his rim, pushing back against his hand and choking on his noises that escalate as he pushes one finger inside.

“Man, you weren’t kidding about being loud,” Fujigaya says. “It’s so _hot_. I could finish right now just listening to you.”

“You better not,” Kitayama hisses, a bassline joining his moans with the second finger. “Deeper, Taisuke. Let me go deeper.”

“Mm, I like the way you say my name like that.” Fujigaya gives a moan of his own, which has Kitayama’s body practically pulling more of him in. “Let me hear it some more and I’ll let you.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says. Right now this is as natural as breathing. “Taisuke, I want you, give me more, please Taisuke.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Fujigaya gasps sharply, and Kitayama pictures him laying in the middle of his bed, which Kitayama has never seen but imagines has silk sheets, arched and rolling his body up into his fist. “Tempted to suffer the cold and the train.”

“If you leave me like this, I will _kill you_ ,” Kitayama growls.

Fujigaya laughs, fading into a pleased moan. “I want you in my mouth, Mitsu. It’s big, but I think I can fit it. I want to taste you so badly. I bet it will feel good in my mouth, hard and thick. Maybe you could grab my hair, too; I really like that.”

“I _will_ finish without you,” Kitayama warns. “I taught you to talk dirty, not be a tease.”

“But I’m so good at it,” Fujigaya replies, sounding entirely too satisfied, and Kitayama can’t argue. “Fine, you want me to fuck you? You really want it?”

“ _Yes_.” Kitayama fingers himself harder, grazing his spot and emitting a short wail.

“You getting ahead of me, Mitsu?” Fujigaya asks. “You’re so shameless about touching yourself. I bet you’re fingering yourself as fast as you can. You are, aren’t you? Are you pretending it’s me?”

“Not yet,” Kitayama says, then pushes in a third finger and groans from the burn. “Now I am.”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Fujigaya hisses, and Kitayama jerks as he feels the words deep inside, deeper than he can reach. “I’m really good at it, you know. The girls never had any complaints about that. I can do it hard and fast and probably outlast you.”

Kitayama flicks both of his wrists faster, thrashing on his couch and nearly knocking the phone off of his shoulder. He tries to form words through his noises, but they’re too strong and he can barely breathe, let alone speak. “Tai—” he gets out.

“Fuck it,” Fujigaya growls, followed by his own moans that are directed _right_ into the phone, probably to keep from being too loud. “Can you feel it? Me slamming into you. _Ah_ , Mitsu, I’m almost there, come for me.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama manages to say, fisting his cock so fast that his other hand can’t keep up, three fingers pushing in and out of himself and touching that spot once more before he explodes, both mind and body as he comes all over his stomach and chokes on his air.

He hears Fujigaya too; there’s no way he _can’t_ with his ear pressed to the phone, straining for those gorgeous noises that he’s come to crave. In the seconds that follow, all he can hear is both of their labored breathing and the pounding of his own heart.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya starts, breathless, and Kitayama doesn’t stop him this time. “I really like doing this with you.”

“Yeah,” Kitayama says, his heart beating even faster. “Me too.”

“I think…” Fujigaya goes on, pausing to gasp for air. “I think it’s just you.”

Kitayama squeezes his eyes shut. “I know.”

“You do?”

“I have absolutely no faith that you could talk like that to anyone else,” Kitayama says with a small laugh. “You’re just comfortable with me.”

Fujigaya makes a noncommittal noise. “There are worse things, I suppose.”

“I’m gonna pass out,” Kitayama struggles to say as the all too familiar sleepy feeling starts to wash over him.

“That good, huh?” Fujigaya asks smugly.

“I don’t need to tell you that,” Kitayama grumbles. “You heard all of it.”

“Tell me anyway,” Fujigaya says. “Tell me I made you come so hard that you have to pass out.”

“Baby, you rocked my world,” Kitayama says dryly, and Fujigaya laughs in that annoying way he tries to hide. “Good night, Taisuke.”

“Mm, good night.”

Kitayama dreams of things he doesn’t want to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, but only because he thinks the feeling is mutual.

*

He expects it on their next day off, which isn’t even on the calendar as they put together their next album, but not after a vigorous week of recording when it actually hurts Kitayama to speak at a decent volume.

Fujigaya’s not much better, the downside to having the most vocals in the songs, and so Kitayama just stares at him when he finds him slumped on the other side of the door, just as heavy-lidded.

“Why are you—” Kitayama starts, but his throat is so raw that he halts himself abruptly. He’s in danger of not having a voice at all tomorrow, which would really push back their schedule.

Even if he hadn’t stopped talking, Fujigaya’s single finger pressed to his lips would have done it. Kitayama yanks him inside before anyone can see and Instagram it, but he didn’t think this out all the way and ends up pulling Fujigaya right against him. Fujigaya braces himself with both hands on Kitayama’s shoulders, but his head ends up right by Kitayama’s ear and just his breathing has Kitayama shuddering, too exhausted to fight it.

He waits for Fujigaya to say something, even if it would just be a whisper (hoping it’s a whisper), but Fujigaya surprises him for the second time in forty-five seconds and just presses his lips to Kitayama’s tragus. Hands clutch onto his arms when he starts to lose his balance and Fujigaya presses light kisses down his jaw, working his way to Kitayama’s chin where Kitayama’s the one to lower his head to feel Fujigaya’s mouth against his own.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed and it feels like they’re making up for all of the other times they didn’t, energy coursing through Kitayama’s veins despite his tired body. Fujigaya seems to have the same problem, stumbling in his stance as he holds both of them up and kisses back. His mouth is warm and inviting, tasting a hint of coffee mixed with something sweet and Kitayama can’t get enough, looping his arms around Fujigaya’s waist in complete defeat as he pulls him closer for more.

He doesn’t realize they’re swaying until they nearly fall over, and Fujigaya laughs silently as he slowly lifts his eyes to Kitayama’s like he fears what he will find there. His eyes are soft and dark, his cheeks the slightest tinge of pink, but his ears are their normal color.

Wordlessly Kitayama leads him down the hall and hops on his bed, instantly pounced by Fujigaya and lowered to his mattress. Fujigaya’s mouth is on his again and this time it’s more intense, tongue flicking between Kitayama’s lips and Kitayama gladly parts them to deepen the kiss. His body registers that he’s on a bed and completely shuts down, at least the part that involves motor coordination, which apparently does not affect his hormones at all.

A sharp gasp of air sounds from Fujigaya as he grinds down, his jeans harsh against Kitayama’s thin sweatpants, and Kitayama grabs him by the hips to push back up, his hands slipping up Fujigaya’s shirt and feeling his skin without any active control from his brain. Fujigaya does the same, only he pushes Kitayama’s shirt all the way off and pulls his own over his head while they’re broken apart, but then he’s right back in Kitayama’s mouth and his thumbs are hooking under the waistband of Kitayama’s sweats.

It’s possibly the slowest he’s ever been undressed, both from fatigue and whatever spell they’re under. It seems like an eternity before Fujigaya kicks off the rest of his clothes and they’re skin to skin everywhere, more gasps tickling his tongue when their cocks bump and Kitayama learns how hard Fujigaya is already.

He reaches for it and Fujigaya breathes faster, uncharacteristically quiet—they both are. He starts to wonder if it’s really to save their voices, but then Fujigaya’s reaching between his legs and Kitayama’s only focus is on lifting his knees. They’re heavier than usual and Fujigaya has to help him, gently pressing on the backs of his thighs, and Kitayama apologetically pulls out of their kiss to reach over to his nightstand.

Fujigaya grabs his wrist to halt him, flashing a small tube when Kitayama blinks open his eyes in confusion, than happily returns to Fujigaya’s lips and tongue moving against his. A very faint noise sounds from the back of Kitayama’s throat when Fujigaya circles his hole with the pad of his finger, slick and gentle, but that’s all that comes out even when he starts to push it in. Kitayama arches, falling once more from Fujigaya’s mouth, which just latches onto his throat and sucks lightly as he slowly stretches Kitayama.

Wet kisses pepper his chest down to his navel, where Fujigaya’s chin bumps the head of Kitayama’s cock and a moan dies in his throat. Fujigaya flicks dark eyes up at him one last time before opening his mouth, taking Kitayama past his lips as he continues down. It’s so hot and tight that Kitayama’s fisting the sheets on either side of him, fighting to lift his head and keep his eyes focused because he wants the sight of his cock disappearing into Fujigaya’s mouth emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids.

Fujigaya sucks slowly, getting used to the weight of Kitayama on his tongue, which flicks all over the place. Kitayama pries one of his hands off his covers to slide fingers into Fujigaya’s hair, damp from a recent shower and the sweat of their efforts, gently guiding him up and down. His hips start rolling gently as Fujigaya swallows around the head of his cock and takes him in and out, and Fujigaya seems to like it by the faint hum he makes, stimulating Kitayama even more.

It gets faster once Fujigaya gets in a second finger, Kitayama’s body rocking on its own and shuddering when Fujigaya touches him just right. Fujigaya exhales exceptionally hard at that and keeps going, prodding that spot until Kitayama digs his own fingers into his arms, a voiceless whimper spilling from his lips as Fujigaya adds a third.

“Taisuke—” Kitayama gets out, voice entirely raspy and hardly considered a voice at all, but then Fujigaya’s moved back up his body, kissing him hard and Kitayama starts to think that they’re actually getting off on having absolutely _no_ talking this time. Both of them.

He pushes back against Fujigaya’s fingers, conveying his needs without words, and the next sound he hears is a condom wrapper. His breathing quickens, much more apprehensive than the last time he did this, though he can’t even compare the two anymore. There is absolutely nothing similar between the quick fuck he’d gotten and this…whatever it is.

What it is is Fujigaya all over him, inside him, kissing him deeply and panting into his mouth before he’s even inside him. It’s Kitayama’s body opening for him, taking him in slowly until Fujigaya’s thighs touch his own and he feels fuller than ever before. It’s Fujigaya clinging to him, arms looped around his shoulders, and Kitayama clutching onto Fujigaya’s shoulder blades as he starts to move.

They kiss most of the way through it, until Fujigaya thrusts particularly sharply and hits that spot, sending Kitayama into an arch so high that his back completely leaves the mattress. That has Fujigaya tightening his grip, undoubtedly in response to the way Kitayama’s body is tightening around him, and everything is just so much _more_.

All through it, Kitayama strokes his hair, pushing it out of his face and untangling the mess it’s become, and Fujigaya slides his hands down Kitayama’s arms as he goes even deeper. As much as he wants this to last, if just for the surreal atmosphere surrounding them right now, Kitayama can’t actually wait anymore, his body too tired to hold back and screaming at him for release.

It takes the last of his energy to lift his head, but it’s worth it when Fujigaya’s in his mouth again, hands steady on his hips to keep the rhythm. Fujigaya hadn’t been kidding about being good at this; he moves like it’s effortless, pushing through the resistance of Kitayama’s body and touching him everywhere he wants it. It feels so good and he wants to tell Fujigaya that, but now he really is incapable of speaking and all he can do is show it through his kiss, shakily reaching down to touch himself and choking on his air.

Fujigaya gasps instantly, thrusting a little harder and covering Kitayama’s hand with his own, both of them pulling him off until it’s all over. Kitayama arches and comes with a strangled noise, his muscles squeezing Fujigaya’s orgasm right out of him. All the while Fujigaya doesn’t stop kissing him, even if Kitayama’s not much of an active participant at this point, though he gets right back to it and is already pressing his lips to Fujigaya’s when he comes down enough to think again.

He starts to reach for the tissues but once again Fujigaya stops him, pulling away from his mouth with what looks like extreme reluctance as he kisses his way down Kitayama’s chest and licks up the mess himself. Kitayama strokes his hair again, incredibly turned on in the way that doesn’t involve an erection, and Fujigaya gives a pleased hum at the attention. He reminds Kitayama of a cat, especially with the way he rolls onto his side and curls up next to him like he doesn’t intend on moving one bit.

That’s good, Kitayama thinks, because he’s not too keen on giving up Fujigaya’s warmth so soon. Amongst other things.

He’s already falling asleep, but his mind is suddenly clear and open to thoughts that involve the man lying next to him and what has obviously changed between them tonight, or if he’s being honest with himself what has changed over the past couple months. He doesn’t think too hard about it, content with being comfortable right now, though a tiny voice in the back of his head wonders what will happen in the morning. Next week. Several months from now.

Then Fujigaya reaches for his hand and laces his fingers together, right on Kitayama’s chest over his heart, and Kitayama thinks talking is horribly overrated.


End file.
